March 15, 2019 – “Margaret is not my name . . .

          . . . Peggy is on my birth certificate,” said a fellow classmate adamantly correcting the teachers when I was in high school.  It was the first thing I noticed about the gal who sat near the end of the alphabet, in the last row of seating right before “Zangarine”.

         That was the beginning of knowing her.  We were both in the same “home room” class [and many others] from seventh grade through senior at the regional high school that was built on the town line between our two towns.  I was the first person of the S through Z section of the home rooms. 

         It was a nice regional high school, plunked down in the middle of a watershed area in a pine forest near the Wachusett Reservoir. Our school mascot was a Stag and many times as I’d ride the bus to school I’d catch a glimpse of a deer bounding from one side of the highway to the other.

         Our school colors were forest green and white, always fresh and crisp, making classic good looks for cheer leading and band uniforms.

         My sister-in-law, Peggy, was constantly correcting the new home room teacher or any new teacher who persisted in calling her by the name of Margaret. Of course, they tried to argue with her by saying we don’t go by nicknames. After the fourth or fifth time in the first couple of days and hearing this persistent exchange of teacher vs. student, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her and thought she should just keep a copy of her birth certificate with her so that she could flash teachers to put them in their place. I witnessed this often through our high school years.

         What was more interesting about this exchange, the majority of the teachers called on us in our classes by surnames alone or sometimes with Miss or Mr. in front of them so whether it was Peggy vs. Margaret it was a moot point.

         It was a cross she’d have to bear her whole life.

         Peggy died March 1, 2019 after a short illness. But, she had a full life and was talented in many ways.

         I hope when she gets to the Pearly Gates she finds Peggy – not Margaret on the check-in reservation.

         I must remember when I see her again, to ask her about that.

Peggy St. John

March 1, 1953  March 7, 2019

Eternal rest, grant unto her O Lord

and let perpetual light shine upon her.

May she rest in peace. Amen

May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed,

through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Amen.